


I Never Seen You Look So Good

by socknonny



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Anal Sex, Described Heterosexual Sex, Described Past M/F, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Masturbation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 04:41:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19418683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/socknonny/pseuds/socknonny
Summary: The Upside Down's latest bullshit is some kind of dust that sends people into a sex-crazed frenzy. But Steve doesn't want Billy if it's all a lie.The vial bursts. Powder goes everywhere—in the air, in their eyes, in their lungs.Steve doubles over, hacking and coughing, desperate to make sure none of the toxin gets inside, but he’s too late. He can taste the noxious smell; it’s overwhelming his senses, making his eyes water and his limbs shake as fear hits him.He won’t be able to hide it now. He won’t be able to hide how he feels about Billy, and worse still, he won’t want to. What the fuck is he going to do?





	I Never Seen You Look So Good

**Author's Note:**

> Used the sex pollen trope from Saturday's prompt!
> 
> I started writing this curious if I could make sex pollen consensual. I think I might have? Not too sure how I feel about it in the end... still tagged dub con though bc of the nature of the sex pollen trope and I don't want anyone reading something triggering, so mind the tags <3

Billy Hargrove leans against Steve’s family couch and glares at the vial on the kitchen bench.

“Why do you have to keep it again?” He fiddles with a toothpick in his mouth while he talks.

He’s barely looked in Steve’s direction since coming through the door. It’s nothing new, but Steve wishes Billy would grow up enough to act like Steve is a real human being once in a while. It’s not like he expects Billy will  suddenly  like him or anything—as much as he might wish it—but just a friendly smile once in a while would  be fucking nice. He almost wishes they’d go back to how things were in high school—anything but this bizarre stalemate they’ve found themselves in where they’re sort of friends but with a distance between them that Steve can’t bridge.

“Hop didn’t want it staying with the kids or anywhere near Eleven,” Steve explains wearily . “Not until the lab guys can get here and contain it.”

Billy snorts, his expression  strangely  contemplative for a second before it shuts down into a mask again. “Figures. His daughter’s dating that Wheeler kid, yeah?” 

“Yeah.”

The latest in Upside Down bullshit  currently  rests in an innocuous glass vial on Steve’s counter. It looks like any other jar of spice, though it’s anything but. Stronger than any drug or aphrodisiac, it  apparently  sends the victim into a sex-crazed frenzy. So, yeah, Hop doesn’t want it anywhere near his daughter. Steve can’t blame him.

Four years after this shit started, and they still can’t catch a break.

“All right, well…” Billy pushes away from the couch. “Package delivered. Guess I’ll see you ‘round, pretty boy. Oh, and you’ve gotta pick Max up.”

Hopper had, for reasons related to desperation and having no other option, charged Billy with getting the vial out of his house and into safe-keeping while he got in touch with the lab. He hadn’t even let Billy drive Max home, he was so intent on keeping everyone away from the vial.

“Hang on.” Steve steps forward, frowning. “Why do I have to pick up Max?”

Billy stares at him like he’s an idiot. “Because the Chief wouldn’t let me drive her home?”

“So? Why is that my problem?”

“Because I had to deliver this stupid shit to you, risking my  own  health, thank you very much. And now I have to go home and deal with the fallout of Max not being there.” He jabs a finger into Steve’s chest.

Steve shoves him backwards. “Go back there now, shithead. It’s not like I want this goddamn vial here.”

Billy spreads his arms incredulously . “What, not even a ‘thank you’?  _ Thank you Billy for risking your neck for our crazy shit yet again.  _ You’re welcome , by the way, for being your personal messenger boy. The least you could do is go for a little drive.” He pushes Steve back.

“A little drive?” Steve yells. “It’s out in the fucking woods!” He pushes Billy’s shoulder harder than he means to because fuck, can Billy not be an ass for just two seconds in his goddamn life?

Billy collides with the kitchen bench, his arms crashing backwards onto the counter and sending the contents cascading onto the ground.

The vial bursts. Powder goes everywhere—in the air, in their eyes, in their lungs.

Steve doubles over, hacking and coughing, desperate to make sure none of the toxin gets inside, but he’s too late. He can taste the noxious smell; it’s overwhelming his senses, making his eyes water and his limbs shake as fear hits him. 

He won’t be able to hide it now. He won’t be able to hide how he feels about Billy, and worse still, he won’t  _ want  _ to. What the fuck is he going to do?

The powder recedes, a gentle plume descending onto the ground. Steve looks up, stares into the blue, blue eyes that are already dilating, the thin sheen of sweat appearing on Billy’s brow, and he knows it’s starting. Soon they’ll  be overpowered by the need to touch, to taste, to feel. Sure, people have apparently walked away from this before, according to Hopper, but that doesn’t mean they will. It might not take away your willpower, but it makes you want something you wouldn’t  normally  want so much you'll  gladly  hand all willpower over. 

And Steve  _ does  _ want it. He always wants it, so his willpower is fucking shot anyway. And the powder hit Billy too which means Steve is going to see the lust in Billy’s eyes and know it’s only there because of some freaky Upside Down shit—nothing real—and it’s just him, him and his own fucking  _ want _ , like always. 

Worse still, what if Billy tries to give it to him? What if the dust makes him want it so badly , he forgets how much he hates Steve? Steve doesn’t want it like that. He doesn’t want a lie, and he doesn’t want Billy to regret it the second his sense returns. 

Billy blinks at him, eyes heavy-lidded and lips wet as he runs his tongue along them. 

That’s when it hits Steve; nothing has changed. He  isn’t overcome with need,  isn’t filled with any uncontrollable desire to fall to his knees and suck Billy’s cock into his mouth— no more than usual, anyway. The only desire in Steve’s body is the slow coil of heat that builds low in his gut, twisting its way south as he watches the flush rise along Billy’s chest. It’s the same desire he always feels when he looks at Billy.

Billy crosses the distance between them, hesitant for only a second before his hands are on Steve’s biceps, holding him still. For a moment, he seems to hesitate, something like fear making his eyes bright. But he must see something on Steve’s face that makes him break because then he groans and stumbles forward, like he’s propelled by some unseen force, and his lips crash onto Steve’s for just a second before they pull away and drop to Steve’s neck. It’s like he can’t contain himself, every movement fueled by something unseen, something desperate. He moans against Steve’s skin, licking and tasting until all Steve can think of is how good Billy would feel beneath him. How much he looks like he wants this.

Steve pushes Billy away.

“Not like this,” Steve whimpers, backing away until his feet hit the wall and he can rest his head against the cool plaster. “You don’t want this.”

Billy reappears at his neck, tonguing and biting a line across Steve’s collar bone. When he speaks, his voice is thick with desire. “Don’t want what? Your pretty cock in my mouth? I think I do.” 

His hands drop to Steve’s fly, fumbling at the zipper, and Steve can’t help the moan that drops from his lips. Still, he reaches out and grabs hold of Billy’s wrists, ignoring the way his pulse thuds beneath Steve’s fingers.

“It’s the Upside Down shit,” Steve breathes, forcing the words out on shaking breath. “You ’re going to regret this when it fades.”

Billy’s jaw goes slack, his eyes unfocused as he stares at the wall over Steve’s shoulder. It’s like the thought hadn’t even occurred to him, like he was so far gone he’d  actually managed to forget just how much he hates Steve.

“You’ll regret it,” Billy repeats, his eyes sliding back to meet Steve’s.

For a second, his expression is  entirely  too lucid, filled with horror and disgust, and it makes something sick twist in Steve’s stomach. Billy shoves away from the wall, putting a few inches of distance between them. It feels like miles.

Steve draws in a shaky breath. “You should just go home,” he says as  calmly  as he can manage. “It’ll  be gone in a few hours. Just jerk off or something; you’ll be fine.”

He can’t help wetting his lips as he tells Billy to jerk off, the thought delicious and obscene all in one. Billy’s eyes follow the motion, lust clouding them once more.

“Go home,” he  says slowly , gaze still locked on Steve’s mouth. “Isn’t this shit meant to be painful if you fight it alone?”

Something about the phrasing niggles at Steve, like it’s too distant. Shouldn’t Billy already be in pain? It’s been several minutes of them mostly fighting it, and Hop said the stuff kicks in like a bitch right from the start.

Steve doesn’t possess the brain cells or the time right now to work out the problem, so he ignores it.

“Yeah, but it’s better than the alternative, isn’t it?” He tries to keep the self-deprecation from his tone.

Better than fucking Steve and regretting it, isn’t it?

Billy flinches, so small Steve almost misses it. “What about…” he trails off, taking another step backward. Starts again. “What about a third option?”

“Like what?” Steve forces his voice to be firm. “I’m not touching you. Not like this.”

“We don’t have to touch.” Billy’s voice has dropped so fucking low, it sinks under Steve’s skin, under his soul. “We can… we can turn off the lights and you can do whatever you want. I won’t look. I won’t see anything, Harrington, but we won’t be alone, yeah? So it might not feel so bad? We can share dirty stories or some shit.”

He reeks of desperation, and the worst fucking thing is Steve is right there with him and he can’t even blame the dust. The hope that rises inside him at Billy’s suggestion is so pathetic, Steve should say no on principle, but he can’t find the words. It’s not like they’re crossing any lines. This thing will fade, and what will they have to regret? Just some dirty stories and the knowledge that the other one  probably  jerked off in the dark, but they won’t  really  know. 

It’s nothing they haven’t shared in the locker room before—guys telling stories of conquests and shit. Rubbing one out in the cubicles after the game when they’re too keyed up with no release. Billy will never have to know Steve  wasn’t possessed by the sex dust shit, and Steve will never have to worry that he pushed Billy too far, took advantage of him at his weakest and turned him into a… turned him… made him like Steve.

Besides, Billy’s right. Everyone who tried to fight this stuff ended up in agony until it had passed through their system. Maybe if they do this they can trick it into thinking they’re fucking, and it’ll pass through Billy’s system without hurting him like it hurt all the others. Steve doesn’t want Billy to be hurt.

“Fuck it,” Steve mumbles. “Yeah. Shit. Yeah, let’s do it.”

He fumbles for the light, and when he finds it, he almost gasps at the sudden darkness that descends on the room. His dick perks up like a fucking Pavlovian response, like it knows what’s coming and it’ll take any scraps it can get. Because this is so pathetic; he’s so far gone he’ll take a hint of Billy Hargrove wanking himself off in a dark room because he knows he’ll  never have anything more.

The sound of a zipper sliding down a few feet in front of him makes him moan. Soft noises fill the space between them,  mostly  breathy huffs at first and then a hint of something wet and fast. He tips his head back against the wall again, slides his hand into his pants, and grips his own cock in hand, closing his eyes as he realises he’s harder than he’s ever been.

“Say something,” Billy pants, and he’s further away than Steve thought. Further than he wants him to be. From the way the sound hits, he thinks Billy might  be leaning back against the arm of the couch,  probably  with his legs spread and one hand pumping away between them.

“Fuck,” Steve moans, overwhelmed at the thought.

Billy chuckles, the sound of his stroking slowing for a second. “Something more than that. Tell me about the last girl you boned, Harrington. What was she like? Was she wet? Was she hot for you?”

“Yeah,” Steve’s hand speeds up of its own accord, and it’s not Cindy he’s thinking of when he  begins to describe his last date however many months ago that was. “So wet, man. I just… I fingered her for like an hour in the back of the cinema first. Just fucking played with her clit, all slow and shit while that dumb horror movie was playing.”

“Holy shit.” Billy’s  normally  deep voice is higher than Steve has heard it before, almost like a whimper.

“She loved it. She was so on edge from the movie that the slightest touch had her moaning and grinding against my hand.”

He slows down his own strokes, trying to make this last, trying to pretend this is real in any way .

“Right there in the cinema?” Billy sounds breathless. So fucking gone he can’t even remember to keep the edge of scorn in his voice. Instead, he’s in awe. Anyone can hear it.

“Yeah, man.”

“Anyone see you?”

Steve shakes his head then remembers Billy can’t see him. He bites his lip at the wet sounds filling the room and swallows. “No one saw. Maybe the projectionist, if he looked down. Had her squirming for me all night.”

“And then you fucked her? Where? In your car?”

“Backseat.” 

He pictures Billy in the backseat of his car, faded denim jacket tossed across the custom leather seats. Pictures him spread out and palming himself through his jeans, eyes heavy lidded as he watches Steve kneel between his legs. As he watches Steve blow him.

Fuck, Steve wants to blow him.

“You dog, Harrington.” Billy sounds fucking delighted. “What does she look like?” 

Steve stutters, trying to picture the correct face in his mind. Cindy is a brunette. “Blonde. Blue eyes.” He has no fucking idea what Cindy’s eyes look like. Fuck it. Who cares? It’s not like Billy will know Steve is talking about him.

This is  simultaneously  the best and worst night of Steve’s life. It’s the closest he’s ever come to getting with Billy, and he’s never been further away because Billy doesn’t want him. Even in the lust-soaked fever of the sex dust,  Billy was disgusted at the thought of how much he’d regret this tomorrow. It’s almost a relief he  did pull away, because at least it’s better than Steve seeing true regret on his face when it was already too late. At least he didn’t do something he couldn’t take back.

The only person who’s going to be hurt in all this is Steve, and that’s the only way Steve will have it. At least Billy gets to wake up tomorrow and laugh at the memory of how fucked up they both were without having crossed a line he didn’t want to cross. It’s only Steve who’ll never be able to get this out of his head, who’ll dream about it, who’ll know that for him it was always real.

“Shit yeah.” Billy moans, long and loud around the squelching sounds, faster than before. “Curls?” 

“Yeah,” Steve pants. “Blonde curls. Dirty blonde curls.”

“You tug on them when you’re riding her? You ride her doggy style, fingers clenched in those curls, Harrington?”

Steve can see it. He can see Billy beneath him, face pressed down into the leather seats, blond curls caught up in Steve’s fist as he fucks into him hard and fast. He stumbles a little, sliding down the wall until he’s sitting on the ground, propped against it. The fingers of his left-hand brush against something on the floor—a vial. The thing that started all this.

God, he wishes this was real. He wishes, just once, that Billy would look at him like that and mean it.

He glances down, and the light from beneath the door shines at just the right angle for him to read the label on the vial. For a second, he doesn’t realise what he’s reading. His right hand stills, and a white buzzing noise fills his head.

“Billy,” he chokes out.

Billy gasps, swearing beneath his breath. “Fuck yeah, pretty boy. Say my name.”

“Billy,” Steve stammers urgently . “Billy, stop.”

The sounds cease, replaced by furious panting. “What?” Billy hisses, furious and indignant.

“This is nutmeg.”

Silence. Then, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“The vial. It wasn’t the Upside Down dust, it was fucking nutmeg.”

The only sound in the room is the harsh rasp of breath, both of them still panting  heavily  and quickly , though for Steve it’s as much from  rapidly  building confusion as anything else.  Of course it hadn’t worked on him; they’d never spilled the dust in the first place. But that means Billy…

The disgust and horror on Billy’s face from minutes ago shoves its way to the front of Steve’s thoughts, and his mind  slowly  twists it around until he’s looking at it correctly . Steve said they would regret it tomorrow.  If Billy wasn’t infected by the dust , he knew  exactly  what he was doing; there was nothing for him to regret. Which means he  wasn’t disgusted at Steve.

Billy was disgusted with himself. For wanting Steve. For wanting Steve so  badly  he almost let himself forget Steve doesn’t want him back.

There’s an obvious flaw in that line of thought—Steve  _ does  _ want him back, wants him so bad it fucking hurts, dust or no dust—and Steve  distantly  acknowledges that they’re both fucking idiots.

Steve snaps on the light. A pink flush rises on Billy’s neck, creeping along his jaw and all the way down below his nipples, which Steve can see through the wide open vee of his shirt. Somewhere in the commotion it has dropped backwards, skewed off one shoulder. Billy’s eyes are wide in shock, his jaw still slack with desire and one hand wrapped  loosely  around his cock. He’s never looked more beautiful.

“You mean…” Billy  says slowly ,  pausing to wet his lips. His voice is rough, dragging over the words with hesitant hope. “This is…”

“Yeah.” Steve takes a steadying breath; it does nothing. “Yeah, this is…”

Steve breaks, and  suddenly  they’re on each other. Billy’s hands settle on Steve’s waist, sliding along his skin with a quiet reverence at odds with  the violence of his mouth. His teeth bear into Steve’s shoulder, and then Billy is sucking and biting and nibbling at the same time his hands lift, bringing the shirt up over Steve’s head and onto the floor. 

He takes one of Steve’s nipples in his mouth. Steve closes his eyes at the wet heat of Billy’s tongue; it’s just as overwhelming as he imagined.

Steve tugs Billy’s shirt back over his shoulders before pushing him back just far enough that Steve can turn him around. He hooks an arm over Billy’s shoulder and presses it into his chest, leaning forward to whisper into his ear.

“Cindy doesn’t have blonde curls.”

Billy’s chest heaves beneath Steve’s hand, stuttering as his breath rasps and catches. His eyelashes flutter closed. He’s  unexpectedly  soft in Steve’s arms—mixing back and forth between violent lust and soft surrender.

Steve accepts the surrender and guides Billy down over the arm of the couch. Rough hands grip the cushions, holding himself still while Steve hunts around for a condom in his pocket and rolls it on.

“Front pocket,” Billy mutters, gravel back in his voice now that he’s  apparently  had a moment to catch himself. “Lube.”

“Fucking boy scout,” Steve says, smacking Billy’s ass when he protests.

It’s almost too much the way Billy lets him.

The lube slides across his fingers, cold and so fucking grounding compared to the heat of their bodies. It doesn’t take long before he’s slick and ready, his fingers massaging Billy both firm and gentle at once—at first against him, and then into him as Billy’s moans grow longer and Steve’s patience shorter.

“Are you gonna fuck me, Harrington? Or was this all just some elaborate joke?”

Billy’s words are mocking, but there’s an edge of genuine fear that keeps Steve from quipping something back. Steve lines himself up, pushing  slowly  forward as Billy stiffens beneath him, and reaches out to twist Billy’s dirty blond curls around his fingers.

“I’m gonna fuck you, Billy,” he says, and pushes the rest of the way in.

Billy’s moans turn into whimpers, so gone in lust he doesn’t even seem to care about keeping quiet anymore. It’s just like Steve imagined, just like he described only minutes before: Billy stretched out before him, face down against the seat of the couch with Steve’s hand fisted in his hair. Steve wonders if Billy would let Steve grip him harder, hold him down tighter and just fucking take it, and then he realises he doesn’t have to wonder anymore. He just has to ask.

He lifts his other hand from Billy’s hips and rests it in between his shoulder blades, rubbing slow circles with his thumb before he slowly , questioningly , applies pressure. Pushes Billy into the cushions. Holds him in place. 

Billy melts. His hands grip the cushions and Steve thinks he can see him bite down on them. Can’t quite confirm it from this angle, but it doesn’t matter because just imagining that is enough, imagining Billy giving it over to him so completely .

Muffled words sound from the cushions, and Steve leans closer to hear them properly . 

“What did you say?”

“Talk dirty to me, Steve. Anything. Fuck, anything.”

Steve’s cheeks flush at the thought of everything he wants to say, and he babbles it out anyway like he can’t fucking control himself. Like the sight of Billy Hargrove taking his dick has made something short circuit.

“You’re so fucking hot like this,” Steve groans. “So fucking hot. Just. So hot. God, I’ve fucking wanted you so long.”

Billy moans, shoulders flexing beneath Steve’s fingers. Steve keeps talking, slowing down to hit the spot inside that makes Billy come undone, dragging his cock along it to tease him.

“I didn’t know what I  was gonna do when I thought you’d breathed in that dust. Fuck, man. For a second, it was like I could  finally  have you, you’d  finally  want me.” Steve’s movements slow even further and his brow furrows as his own words reach his brain. “But that wasn’t true. It would have been the dust, not you, but this… Fuck, Billy, who knew you’d give it up so good?”

The words  are still muffled , but Steve just  manages to catch them. “ Always gonna give it up for you.”

Steve speeds up, the room filling with the sound of their skin slapping together and the harshness of their breath. He can feel the pressure pooling below his gut, his orgasm building, and then he’s crashing down, coming so hard he stumbles forward and has to brace himself above Billy’s shoulders.

He  barely  has enough time to catch his breath before Billy pushes him backwards, grabs him by the arm and throws him onto the couch. Billy straddles him, one arm braced above Steve’s head and the other taking himself in hand and pumping in long, sure strokes. His face tips backwards, blissful and open, and Steve can’t look away from it. Can’t look away from the soft furrow of his brow, the full, red lips that part further with every twist and slide of his hand. Can’t look away from the small hitch of breath and the almost disbelieving expression on Billy’s face as he  finally  comes all over Steve’s chest.

The silence of the room after that is almost ominous, and they  quickly  retrieve their clothing and try to assemble themselves back into something normal. Not that anything can feel normal anymore.

“So,” Billy says after an awkward pause, kicking the vial of empty powder. “Nutmeg, you say.”

“Yep.”

“Goes in food yeah?”

Steve frowns. “Yeah? I guess so.”

Billy looks thoughtful. “Like, dinner food?”

One beat passes. Two. Then Steve’s eyes widen incredulously . “Is this  seriously  your way of asking me out to dinner?”

Billy’s eyes slant away. “I dunno, is it?”

Steve can’t help it; he bursts out laughing. Just as Billy’s confusion is  beginning to morph into offense, Steve reaches out and snags him by the collar, dragging him in for a slow, languid kiss.

“Yeah, I’ll go out to dinner with you.”

Billy grins against his lips. “Good. But you’re still picking up Max.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading <3


End file.
